


stumbling over your uneven feet like you're ever coming home

by dekupages



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Gen, Self-Harm, Surprisingly Fluffy, not quite flashbacks but Finn has a Bad Time, starts out Not Great but finn has Good Friends Who Love Him and it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dekupages/pseuds/dekupages
Summary: Egress sits heavy in him. An unfortunate encounter with a misplaced curse leads to old memories rearing their ugly heads.





	stumbling over your uneven feet like you're ever coming home

Finn wakes up to... soft. Soft and warm. Soft and warm and smelly like his bed. Yeah, he'd recognize bedsmell anywhere. Sleepin'boystank is very distinct. Finn wakes up in his bed. His eyes feel super gooed shut and heavy, so he just doesn't bother with them yet. He'll get around to it.

Wait- he smells... soup?

"Wha- Jake?" His voice sorta rasps on the way out, still scratchy with sleep. His eyes feel all weird and he doesn't like it. Like that time he got really sick when he was like, 8, and Jake had to wipe off his eyes with a wet cloth before he could open them because they were so heavily gooped shut.

"You're awake! Oh, I was so worried. I've been waiting with a bowl of soup; it has hoops and loops and maybe some goop." Hm, that's a gross thought. Eye goop soup.

"What happened? I don't remember getting into bed..." Finn's voice is still freshly-awake soft, all rounded at the edges with fondness. Jake's voice is strangely weighted in contrast.

"...Don't worry. You're gonna be fine... in, uh, in no _time_."

"Thanks for takin' care a' me." He waits a beat, tugs at eyelids that fail to rise. "You're the greatest big brother ever."

He hears a sharp hiss like Jake was sucking in through his teeth. That's... not good. That's Jake for "I'm looking at someone all messed up and I don't want them to know how messed up they are". Is he hurt? He pulls his arms out from under the blankets. Pats himself down; feet first (fine), legs next (fine)- "Hey, uh, watcha doing there Finn?", stomach (a little on the chubby side, but nothing to worry about yet), chest (fine), back (crack! oh that felt good), arms (...), neck- "Uh, Finn buddy, now hold on there-" -(still attached), face- he feels Jake's plasticine fur as he pulls away his ~~real~~  left hand but his ~~fake~~  right one keeps checking- (eyeless).

WHAT-

His breath races away from him, in and out and in and out in wheezing, breathy gunshots. Thoughts pour like water from a shattered cup as everything slips down to pounding pounding pounding and touches like static on his too-sharp skin. Sounds hiss and sputter in his ears, powdered through the wire mesh wrapped tight around his head. He thinks he tastes blood. He thinks he tastes char.

Egress sits inside him and _twists_.

\--------

Finn wakes up to... soft. Soft and- wait, we've already done this bit, haven't we. Hm.

He doesn't try to open his eyes.

Soft and smooth, synthetic and clean. Cool against his skin. Hospital sheets, not really anything like rough but warm fur and an old, old sleeping bag. He feels paper instead of wool on his skin- he must be wearing a hospital gown. Worrying. He sits up.

His hands don't shake at all as they reach up, don't tremble even a little as he lightly curls his fingers into weathered and warm. If he thinks it hard enough, it might be true- or at least he doesn't have to acknowledge it's not. He tugs his hat down, and there's a strange and dreadful sense of finality to something he's done a thousand times before. His hair falls down around him and pools on the bed. It's a lot longer than it was- it's been a while. A longer-than-he-is-tall while. Gold gleams in his minds eye but nothing moves to catch to glitter. He shudders, and twists his hat in his hands. Deep breath. He brushes the hair from his ears and listens.

Quiet. He's probably in the same room of the hospital as always, but he doesn't hear anything- no breathing, no shuffling, none of the thousand tiny sounds that living makes. He hears muffled shuffling and dulled voices, but nothing that sounds direct. He's in an empty room.

"Hello?"

The echo comes back without detour. The same room then, big as always. He waits, and listens to his own breaths (just a touch too fast, just a ripple of tremble).

Why is he so weird about this? Finn twists harder, frustration curling down his face. He's in the Candy Kingdom, which means PB can fix him. She can fix anything- a little haywire curse shouldn't be anything. And if anything, that whole business should have made him better at being blind, not made him... not done this to him.

(That whole business. He can't even think it to himself, his mind just slides off it like looking at a too-bright light. That whole business indeed.)

So what if he can't see for a little bit. He's done this before- he can make it work.

He can make it work.

(Dread is ugly but silent in him. It writhes with rusted scales and iron-nail skin.)

He swings his legs over the side of the bed. He's still wearing his shoes- that won't do. He toes them off and shivers slightly at memories of sand and fire and ice and all sorts of painful terrain. But they won't do- he needs to know what he's walking on, and anyway, they're too loud.

...Too loud? He doesn't- he doesn't care about that this time. It doesn't matter if anyone hears him- he's not wandering around the wilderness anymore. And he doesn't have to hunt or scavenge either. He's fine, he doesn't- he doesn't need to worry. In fact, he might as well put his hat back on because the teensy difference it makes in his hearing isn't worth having to deal with all this globbing hair.

He'll... put it on in a second, he's just... just...

(Being blind is terrifying. Suddenly losing the biggest way you have of knowing your world is terrifying. Every sliver of sense feels like a crumb to a starving beast. The thought of deafening himself by even this small piece feels like laying his head beneath a blade.)

...It doesn't matter. He'll live without it. He stands up in one smooth motion, only shaking slightly, and counts it as a victory. He knows he must look like a mess- wild hair everywhere, barefoot, wearing nothing but a paper gown, ~~eyeless~~ \- but he's to busy trying to convince himself he's real to care.

Oh glob he thought about it- everything feels like paper and cardboard and nothing feels anymore real then a crayon drawing- he digs his nails into his arms like he's trying to dig out his bones, excavate himself and it works thank glob. He thinks he feels wet and warm beneath his nails and he focuses on that, focuses on breathing, focuses on sharp wet pain dripping both too slow and too fast down his arms and there's not enough room left to think about that terror, that unreality. He breathes first too heavy and then too light as he pours every ounce of himself into the stale air on his skin and the sharp, pulsing pain in his... arm (the dulled pulse of the other), the feel of the bed beneath him as he collapses back heavily to sit.

Whew. Not... not thinking about that again. About ( **NO** )- nothing! Nothing. Uh, um, hey look I don't think my right arm is bleeding-

Finn sweeps the whole thing under a rug, sits on it, and runs the fingers of his left arm over the divots they carved in his right. It is not, in fact, bleeding; where his right arm is indistinguishable from the rest of him usually- skin maybe a degree colder if he was looking real hard, but even then he might just be imagining it- now it stands out like a broken thumb. He feels torn plant beneath his hands. Crescent patterns tug away to reveal ragged, cold, and slightly wet- like the torn end of a stem. A few of them too- it feels like a bunch of stems got tied together and severed. He's gently probing the wounds(?) with the pads of his fingers, ignoring mostly dried blood sticking to his sk-

"Hey Finn what's up?"

He screams. He is only a little ashamed of that because screaming when a vampire speaks right next to your ear when you thought you were totally alone is understandable, no matter who you are. He hears cackling as he grips at his chest, pulse startled into overdrive and uncomfortably noticeable on the way down. It takes him a second to calm down enough to talk.

"H- hey, uh, hey Marceline, what's up?" Wibbly and shaky in a way it wouldn't be if she hadn't just made his world clamp tight around his chest. If he could see he could know the walls were far away from him and where to run if they fell in but he can't and he tries desperately to push past the iron bands around his lungs.

He wishes he could see the look on her face.

There's a beat of silence in which he really, truly hates the silent, unreal way Marcy moves. But she hisses in through her teeth from right in front of him, and resent bubbles up too. He squashes it down, because it's not her fault, and doesn't think about it.

"Dude, what happened? All I heard from Bonnie was that you were hurt and to hurry over, but she didn't tell me... I didn't know /this/ happened to you. Are you... okay? Like, do you need anything?"  
Dried blood and broken greenery are faint but just barely noticable in his nose. His hands move rythmically over smooth, cool cloth, and one picks up just a little more detail than the other. Marceline's voice dips and hesitates with worry. Finn wants to rock, but he knows better, and he stops rubbing and grips his thighs instead. "Hey..." He feels icy dots of feeling land gently on the cresents in his upper arm, and he fights not to jerk away and isn't sure he succeeds. "Hey, it's okay man, I won't touch you if you don't want me to right now, but you can't do this to yourself."

She sounds old, right now. Really old. He wonders if a new body and a new hunger feel anything like losing your eyes. He thinks he hears the softest sigh, a breathe of air so small it might have just been a thought. Her voice drifts away; "I'm gonna go get some band-aids, I'll be right back."

He doesn't know if she's here or not right now. He doesn't know the walls aren't caving in. He doesn't know-

He digs his crescents deeper, and doesn't have space left to wonder-

Footsteps. Light but off-key, like someone who's played an instrument all their life picking it back up again for the first time in a while. They never really lost that sound, even while she wasn't a vampire for a little bit. Finn notices he's not digging, and slowly moves his hands back to his lap. The steps stop in front of him.

"I figured you'd have it easier if I walked, so... yeah. Anyway, uh, do you think you can do it or would you rather I-"

"I'm- I mean, uh, it's fine, I can..." Finn holds his hand out and feels vaguely embarrassed, though he doesn't know why. A small box is placed in his hand. He pulls out a band-aid, peels off the paper, and lets it hover uneasily over his arm for a second before placing it. It feels... a little off, but close enough, and for a brief second he feels like he can make this work.

"You're probably wondering where Jake and Bonnie are. I think he took her to that mountain or wherever this happened to see if she can figure out how to fix this curse. She said they probably wouldn't take too long."

"And you're here to babysit me?" He carefully does not let his voice carry his resentment. He wishes he knew what Marcy's reaction was.

"I mean, yeah, but, don't take it personally. Hey, not everybody gets babysat by the Vampire Queen, so you should feel lucky!" her joking tone feels a little flat to him. He can't tell if he's imagining it.

He wants to go outside. Maybe he'll stop feeling like the walls will cave in once he's not surrounded by any. He stands back up and hopes Marcy doesn't notice the slight tremble to him. "I think I'm gonna go outside. Get some fresh air."

"Yeah, okay. I'll come with." Finn can't decide whether he feels resentful or grateful.

He takes a step. He hears hair sliding along sheets. He takes another. The weight of it sliding onto the floor.

...Hm. He hadn't thought this far.

"Hey Finn, have you ever braided your hair?"

"No, but I'm not sure, uh- I don't think I'd do a very good job without, you know, seeing what I'm doing."

"Hey, don't worry, I'll do it for you. If that's okay, I mean- I wouldn't just leave you hangin' while you're having a day as bad as this." Marceline says that, and normalcy washes gently over Finn like a soft tide. A bad day. Yeah, that's easier to think about than... everything. And she's lost that tremble to her voice that was making him nervous too- he's not sure she's not just hiding it but in the end he doesn't really care. It helps either way.

"Thanks Marcy, you're the best." For the first time since he woke up, he cracks a small smile. That might be fake too, but he hears a tiny sigh from Marcy and figures it doesn't really matter, because it helps either way, and it makes his smile that much more genuine. He turns around and steps awkwardly forward, arms held out to find the bed, and promptly trips over his own hair. He lands with an 'oof' and a slight bounce, but he scrabbles up to sit on his knees facing away from Marcy and listens to her laugh just a bit too loud. Yeah, he'll be fine- as long as he's not alone, he'll be fine.

He feels the weight of his hair shift as Marcy gets to work, humming a familiar tune he can't quite place.

\--------

"FINN! FINN!! FIIIINN!!" Jake's voice is getting closer very fast, which isn't surprising. What's a little more surprising is the steady whine that accompanies him, like a shriek that just isn't stopping. He thinks he hears Princess Bubblegum too, but her voice isn't as distinct as Jake's hollering.

"Finn!!" There she is! Man, he glad to- ...hear his friends again. Hm. Bit of a mood killeTHUNK.

He lands on the ground with a delighted laugh, despite everything, as Jake wraps him up in arms that just get longer and tighter around him. He finally climbs back to his feet only to be hauled off them again as the scent of synthetic sweetness fills the air and Peebs twirls him around once, giggling merrily. "I'm so glad to see you up and about, we were so worried- and don't worry, we caught the little  _miscreant_ who donked up what should have been a relatively harmless curse and messed up your seein', and once I juice him of his mojo I'll have you back to normal in no time!"

"Oh thank glob PB, you're a lifesaver."

Finn hears Jake laugh and feels him tuck himself under Finn's arm as he leads him in the direction everyone else is going- though he probably could have made it on his own, violently screeching unidentified 'miscreant' as good a beacon as any. But Finn thinks he likes this better- he's okay having a shoulder to lean on on a bad day. It doesn't make him weak, it just means he has good friends.

**Author's Note:**

> -i wrote this because in the first few seconds when finn first wakes up in Don't Look, it looks like he has no eyes, and i went from there.  
> -this unraveled a little at the end because its very late and i was more excited to finish this then i was wary of forgetting things (which i did), but i dont mind that much because ive been working on this on and off for too long already  
> -jake does, at some point, say to finn something along the lines of "this cant be worse then the time you spent years in a mind dungeon" and thats fuckin WILD  
> -despite Hall of Egress being The Episode That It Is, there are some damn adorable finns in that ep  
> -its a buckwild episode!! like What Bitch!!! who did this!!!!  
> -i will never ever ever stop talking about Hall of Egress. while were at it No One Can Hear You too because thats Messed The Fuck UP!!!!  
> -the eyegoop thing happened to me when i was 8 and i cried because it was Frightening  
> -come chat me up @ dekupages.tumblr.com


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